


Let It Snow

by charivari



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Adorable Ten, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Magnus and Megs talkies, Mopey old mech Megs, Overprotective Magnus, Reflection, Regret, Roddy Megs snark, Roddy Ten pals, Rodimus being a brat, Snow, Snowmechs, Surveillance, Terminus feels, Trailcutter feels, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 02:00:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4769324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charivari/pseuds/charivari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Of all the planet's to recharge the engines, we find ourselves on one covered in snow."</p><p>"At least the weather's calm."</p><p>Megatron scowled,</p><p>"Yes well I suppose that suits Rodimus' decision to declare a Snow Holiday."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"How far along are the quantum engines?"

Magnus rose from the command chair as Megatron entered the bridge.

"67%," he said, "Or to be more accurate 67.6%"

"67.7%" Perceptor corrected from his console.

"My apologies, 67.7%."

Megatron didn't look at all pleased with the answer.

"Of all the planet's to recharge the engines, we find ourselves on one covered in snow."

"At least the weather's calm."

Megatron scowled,

"Yes well I suppose that suits Rodimus' decision to declare a Snow Holiday."

He gestured at the surveillance feed currently playing on the command console. It showed the exterior of the ship, with several crew members captured in real time enjoying the snow covered ground of Galacis.

In the midst were Rodimus and Ten. It was the first time Ten had seen snow. For Magnus it didn't hold much appeal - it was damp, cold and left messy puddles when you re-boarded your ship - so he had been happy for Rodimus to buddy around with Ten while he experienced it.

"At least we're not looking at an extended stay like some of our previous destinations," he said to Megatron.

Megatron scoffed,

"I would sooner spend three more weeks at Cosmic Carnival than this desolate hellhole."

Magnus found that hard to believe, considering the frivolous time-wasting of their "overnight" excursion to Cosmic Carnival.

"It was the closest planet in our proximity," he attempted to justify.

"Yes I know," Megatron sighed, "It's just..."

He trailed off. Magnus might have pondered the abrupt silence if not for his attention being drawn back to the screen.

There was a suspicious ball of snow in Rodimus' hand. He was leaning in towards Ten and saying something in an excited tone - Magnus unable to hear the exact words as this particular feed only had visual and no audio.

But judging by the way Rodimus was pointing at Riptide in the distance - it spelled trouble.

"Sorry," he told Megatron anxiously, "There's a situation that requires my attention."

"By all means," Megatron said dryly, "Avert the impending Rodimus catastrophe."

Magnus didn't pause to register the sarcasm. He comm'd Rodimus swiftly,

::Rodimus, no.::

On screen Rodimus visibly tensed.

::How?:: he swiveled around as though he expected to see Magnus standing behind him. After a moment he clued in to the fact he was being watched on the surveillance, "Oh..."

He shook his helm in the direction of camera, one hand on his hip while the other still cupped the snowball.

::Seriously Mags you're spying on me?::

Magnus was grateful Rodimus couldn't see the guilty furrow of his mouth.

::I'm supervising you.:: he argued, ::I don't want Ten getting caught up in a snowball fight.::

Rodimus scoffed over the comm.

::Mags, look at him," he jerked a thumb at Ten who was standing besides him with a patient happy smile, "They would bounce right off.::

::It's not physical harm I'm worried about, it's emotional distress.:: Magnus ex-vented, ::I put him in your care because I trusted you.::

Another scoff.

::Funny how you mention trust and yet you're watching me on the surveillance.::

He had a point. But considering the mayhem he had been about to stir up, Magnus felt his surveillance was justified.

For Ten's protection of course.

::Please no snowball fights,:: he implored, ::I'm sure you can think of a more non-violent activity to do with Ten.::

::Ugh fine," Rodimus grumbled after a moment, ::We'll make snowmechs or something. Is that non-violent enough for you?::

::Yes. I'm sure Ten would like that.::

After all Ten was artistic. He liked creating things.

::Alright then,:: Rodimus sullenly let the snowball drop from his hand, ::But you owe me. Censoring my fun. Spying...::

He grinned.

::In fact, I'm going to have to punish you for being so naughty.::

Magnus' faceplates heated with embarrassment. It certainly didn't help that Megatron was standing beside him.

::Rodimus, I know this is a private comm, but I wish you wouldn't...::

::Oh you love it,:: Rodimus whirled around only to glance coyly over his shoulder, ::I bet you've been staring at my aft this whole time.::

Magnus resisted the urge to bury his face. The accusation was bad enough, the fact Rodimus jiggled his posterior for emphasis at the camera was worse - Magnus was painfully aware he wasn't the only one watching the feed.

"I suspect that display was more for your optics than mine," Megatron commented.

Magnus only cringed in response. Rodimus had disengaged the comm so he couldn't even rebuke him. At least he had ceased jiggling - though he did make a deliberate show of bending over so he could start scooping up snow - beckoning Ten down on his haunches as he brought him up to speed.

"If you're done nannying," Megatron reclaimed Magnus' attention, "Swerve is apparently serving mulled engex for the occasion. Would you like to join me?"

Magnus was taken aback by the offer.

"I appreciate the invitation," he said politely, "But I avoid consuming engex... I had a bad experience in the past."

"Yes Rodimus told me about Hedonia," Megatron said, much to Magnus' dismay, "But as long as your F.I.M. chip remains engaged, you can enjoy the taste without any... embarrassing consequences."

His shoulders gave a slight lift,

"Though if you prefer to remain on the bridge, watching Rodimus... What exactly is he doing?"

Magnus glanced at Rodimus and Ten scooping snow into a large pile.

"Building a snowmech."

Magnus gave him a tired look,

"You know some days I wake up with a rare positivity Magnus - only to remember I share command with someone whose priorities include learning how to juggle and playing in the snow."

"At least he's not instigating a snowball fight," Magnus said.

"Only thanks to you."

The acknowledgement took Magnus by surprise. He wasn't quite sure whether to accept the recognition or demur out of modesty. In the end he settled on a third option.

"I think I will - join you I mean."

Megatron responded with a nod,

"Perceptor, please assume control of the bridge. Keep me informed of the progress of the engines."

"Yes Captain."

Megatron exited the bridge with the unspoken expectation that Magnus would follow. After a final glance at Rodimus, Ten and their growing mound of snow, he complied.


	2. Chapter 2

Swerve seemed notably nervous at the sight of Megatron entering his bar with Magnus in tow.

“Uh you’re not planning on reading any poetry today are you?”

He quailed a little under Megatron’s deadpan gaze,

“Rest assured, I’ve learned from my experience,” he raised two fingers, “Two mulled engex for Magnus and myself.”

Swerve looked from Megatron to Magnus before breaking into a huge grin,

“I’ll be, Magnus, you risk taker. Finally ready to take that plunge after Hedonia eh?”

Magnus’ mouth tightened with embarrassment.

“It’s hardly a risk with his F.I.M. chip engaged,” Megatron answered before Magnus could form some sort of reproach, “The drinks if you will, Swerve. We’ll be in that booth over there.”

He gestured at an empty secluded booth in the far corner.

“The couple’s corner?” Swerve said, back turned as he prepared the drinks - Magnus certain he was smiling, “Sure.”

“Couple’s corner?”

Swerve glanced over his shoulder, confirming his grin,

“It’s where Chromedome and Rewind sit sometimes. So it’s the couple’s corner. Or the love seat…”

“Maybe we should sit somewhere else,” Magnus suggested uneasily.

“Nonsense,” Megatron said, making a beeline towards it and forcing Magnus to follow suit.

He wedged himself opposite Megatron and sat in relatively awkward silence. Megatron wasn’t like Rodimus. He didn’t talk a mile a minute, devouring up all the silence.

He didn’t paw at Magnus under the table – of which he was grateful. Especially considering the booth’s reputation.

After a moment Swerve arrived with their drinks.

“Enjoy,” he threw a wink at Magnus that felt more suspicious than cheeky.

Of course that was probably his paranoia talking. Swerve knew better than to lace his drink like Whirl had done in Hedonia.

Even if Swerve had been tempted – Magnus was unlikely to experience any effect without his F.I.M. chip being deactivated.

He triple-checked it wasn’t before taking a hesitant sip. The taste was pleasing, warm with the additional spice of preservatives. Even so he found himself waiting a moment before his next sip.

"Relax Magnus,” Megatron smiled over the rim of his drink, “Your F.I.M. chip isn't going to spontaneously deactivate of its own accord."

Magnus could have argued it was probable if he experienced a system wide malfunction. But that in itself was unlikely.

He took another sip – more to please Megatron than of his volition.

Still, he couldn’t deny the taste continued to be favorable.

"I've been meaning to ask you,” he ventured forward into the realm of small talk, “Your technique to permanently engage an F.I.M. chip - have you used it on yourself?"

"What do you think?" Megatron said with a slight smile.

"I think it would be a particularly difficult technique to self-inflict."

"Four million years of practice.”

The answer conjured the image of Megatron trying to correctly thump himself in the back of the helm over a span of four million years. Rodimus would probably laugh at this point. But Magnus wasn’t Rodimus.

And he had noticed the somberness that had crept over Megatron’s faceplate.

“I had a friend – we worked together in the mines. On off-cycles he would often get overcharged. I suppose it was a way to escape the drudgery of life. But all it did was end up getting him into trouble.”

Megatron stared down into his engex,

“But that’s what the Functionists wanted. The sale of engex was never banned under the Senate’s regime, in fact engex prices were consistently low, affordable for the lower class. It kept us happy, complacent, dulled our senses. And if, occasionally, a brawl occurred as a result, it gave them an excuse to cart the trouble-makers away and do with them what they willed…”

He paused, glancing up at Magnus,

“I suppose me saying this is rather pointless now. And hypocritical.”

“Because we’re currently drinking engex?”

“Because of my long list of war crimes.”

Magnus touched his glass a little uncomfortably,

“I think what you were saying was fairly accurate,” he said, “Though engex now has little to do with societal manipulation and more for re-re-re…”

“Relaxation?” Megatron offered.

Magnus nodded,

“I have trouble pronouncing some words,” he said self-consciously, “Rodimus calls it a selective lisp.”

“Rodimus is an aft.”

Magnus was tempted to agree with the addition of a ‘sometimes’. But in the end he chose not to comment.

“I do think that for some engex can be a dangerous vice,” he continued his previous train of thought, “Especially when it comes to overindulgence.”

“Like Trailcutter?”

The name suddenly bought a ghost to the table – the image of Trailcutter’s mangled frame in the morgue.

“Yes,” Magnus said quietly, “Like Trailcutter.” 

Megatron stared down at his fingers,

“So you agree the use of my technique was justified in his case?”

“Ethically I’m uncertain,” Magnus answered honestly, “But Trailcutter did seem to improve after your intervention.”

Megatron’s expression was somber,

“Ethics and results often don’t go hand in hand,” he murmured, “Do you have regrets Magnus?”

Magnus was slightly startled by the question. But he found himself to compelled to speak truthfully,

“Yes.”

“Tell me one,” Megatron said, “And I’ll return the favor.”

Magnus hesitated. It wasn’t that it felt like a trap, though perhaps it was – he couldn’t say for certain that he trusted Megatron implicitly. But it was more his own sense of reluctance to impart something so personal. Something that had been weighing on his conscience for a long time.

But he supposed talking about it might help – wasn’t that why people attended Rung’s sessions, to talk through their problems. Magnus had only visited the therapist’s office once in the capacity as a patient – and during that time he had said very little about himself and spent more time critiquing the angles of Rung’s models.

Confiding to Megatron in a more informal setting seemed preferable somehow – perhaps due to the premise of it being a mutual exchange, one regret for another.

“I… I regret not assisting the Wreckers during the Garrus-9 mission.”

There were other regrets of course. More than a few. But this one had always stood out above the rest.

He remembered rendezvousing with the Wreckers, what remained of them. The coffins. Springer in a coma. Verity, sobbing over Ironfist’s corpse. Verity sobbing in the palm of his hand and Magnus knowing he had failed in his duty as a protector.

“You feel you could have made a difference?” Megatron asked.

“Perhaps,” Magnus’ shoulders lifted, “I suppose it’s impossible to say.”

He had been unable to defeat Overlord aboard the _Lost Light_.

“That’s the thing about regrets,” Megatron said, “The not knowing. Not knowing if any different course of action would have changed events for the better… Or worse.”

Magnus gave a murmur of agreement. He didn’t prompt Megatron to offer up his own regret. Instead he waited – and after a moment Megatron began of his own volition,

“After I was relocated to Messatine – which I suppose is rather common knowledge?”

“Yes.”

Magnus had memorized Megatron’s history – at least the one that was on file.

“After I was relocated to Messatine, I continued writing. At my friend’s encouragement, not the one I referred to earlier – I never saw him again for a long time after he was taken into custody – but I digress, my friend on Messatine smuggled my writing back to Cybertron. That was… until he lost both legs in a mining accident.”

“I’m sorry,” Magnus said rather automatically.

Megatron gave a slight tilt of his helm in acknowledgement,

“Accidents were rather common on Messatine. But as for repairing the injuries, more often than not the Functionists decided it wasn’t worth the cost. We were replaceable after all. I kept my friend alive on my own energon rations. It was all I could do in the short-term. It was naive and sentimental, but it was an injustice to let him die.”

He paused abruptly, seeming to reflect on his own choice of words.

“But in the end that’s exactly what I did,” he went on softly, “There was an evacuation – I returned to our quarters to find him missing. There was very little time before the evac shuttle departed and I made a split second decision to save my writings rather than search for him.”

He paused once more, as if anticipating a reaction. Magnus wasn’t quite sure what to say – other than sit there solemnly, sensing Megatron wasn’t finished unburdening himself.

“Later on I told myself that Terminus had been destined to die the moment the accident took his legs. That I had been delaying the inevitable up until the evacuation forced me to make the tough choice. That it was a lesson in not becoming attached.”

Magnus watched his fists clench on the surface of the table,

“But no matter how much I attempted to justify my actions, I still regretted it. And I’ve never forgotten Magnus - in that moment I was no better than the Functionists. Deciding the worth of one mech over another, deciding my life, my words, were more important than saving Terminus.”

Megatron’s lips twisted in a bitter smile,

“I would say this is the part where you decry me as a monster. But considering your knowledge of my other crimes, the accusation would feel a little belated.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” Magnus said.

Megatron gave him a disbelieving look,

“No?”

"You’re a mech. No different from me. You made choices. Arguably wrong ones…”

Megatron gave a small grunt as if to indicate that was an understatement.

“But it’s not for me to judge you,” Magnus went on, “I could hold you up to the scrutiny of the law but I know it’s not my place. It’s for a higher authority to decide.”

“The Knights?” Megatron said dryly, “Yes, I am looking forward to their verdict.”

“You won’t be the only one facing judgement,” Magnus reminded him, “We’re all in the same boat so to speak.”

Megatron’s expression was pensive,

“Some have more to account for than others,” he said, before his optics refocused on Magnus, “But it’s a nice sentiment I suppose.”

His mouth curved ever so slightly,

“You don’t regret agreeing to drink with me?”

“No,” Magnus said – because in all honesty he didn’t.

Megatron raised his glass in slight toast,

“Neither do I.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Magnus, there you are!”

Rodimus came bounding over, frame glistening with droplets of melted snow.

“Why are you two in the love seat?” he grinned at the pair.

Magnus grimaced. Before he could reply, Rodimus snatched up the remains of his drink and took a sip,

“And you’re drinking engex?”

“My F.I.M. chip is engaged,” Magnus said somewhat defensively, “Rodimus you’re dripping onto the floor.”

Rodimus waved a dismissive hand,

“Pfft Swerve can clean it up,” he took a swig of Magnus’ engex before slamming the practically empty glass back down on the table, “Also, don’t think I’m letting the mystery of your cozy little engex party with Megs slide, we’ll come back to that later…”

He latched onto Magnus’ arm,

“But first I want to show you what Ten and I made.”

His excited tone told Magnus he was likely to persist until Magnus complied. He glanced apologetically at Megatron, who gave a slight motion with his hand,

“Go ahead. It’s obviously Rodimus’ definition of important.”

Rodimus pulled a face in his direction before grinning,

“C’mon Mags, you and Megs can resume your date later.”

“It’s not a date,” the two spoke in almost unison, much to Rodimus’ mirth.

“Sure sure,” he jerked Magnus’ arm again, “C’mon Mags.”

Magnus relented, only to cast a glance at Megatron over his shoulder.

A thought had occurred to him – remembering Megatron’s earlier objection to landing on a planet covered in snow.

He couldn’t help wondering if Galacis presented a far too painful resemblance to Messatine.

But there was little he could do with revelation – especially with Rodimus dragging him towards another destination, where the rest of the crew were already assembled around two snow figures.

One was instantly recognizable. Rodimus, more or less to scale, rendered in striking detail, complete with heroic pose. Most of the crew’s attention seemed to be concentrated on it.

“That’s Ten’s,” Rodimus said before pointing at the less identifiable stack of snow next to his likeness, “That’s mine.”

It bore a simplistic resemblance to the Cybertronian form though Magnus wasn’t reminded of anyone in particular. There were two rock optics in its blobby helm, two sticks protruding from the sides, giving it the unfortunate impression of being stabbed.

Rodimus turned to Magnus with an exuberant ‘praise me’ expression.

Magnus attempted to oblige.

“Oh uh, it’s very good Rodimus.”

It wasn’t the most convincing compliment. Rodimus frowned,

“Don’t you see Magnus?” he said, “It’s you.”

He tramped closer to it,

“Okay it’s not to scale. But see, the sticks are your antennas.”

“Yes I see,” Magnus did his best to force out brightly, “Very clever.”

He at least wanted to seem appreciative in Rodimus choosing him as a subject – despite the unflattering result.

Rodimus eyed him for a moment inscrutably before grinning,

“I knew you’d like it,” he pointed at Snow Rodimus, “And what d’ya think of Ten’s, pretty good likeness huh?”

Magnus ventured in closer to study the detail.

“Incredible,” he said, “This really is amazing Ten.”

“Ten,” Ten replied happily.

“I don’t even know how you accomplished this much detail,” Magnus continued, transfixed, “You’ve never seen snow before. Let alone crafted anything with it.”

It was much like Ten’s almost preternatural skill with his figurines. Magnus supposed he might never come to learn the answer. But as long as Ten was happy, like he clearly was in this moment, an explanation wasn’t really required.

Other than the fact Ten was simply, special.

Right now he was being flooded by mecha giving him compliments.

“Hey how about some love for his model,” Rodimus demanded over the top of them, “You know an artist is only as good as his muse.”

“I think that reflects badly on Magnus,” came a voice behind them, “Given your feeble attempt at capturing him.”

Magnus was rather surprised to see Megatron walking out into the snow. Snow he had thought reminded him of Messatine. He wasn’t sure if his sudden appearance disproved his theory or implied something more meaningful.

He preferred to think it was the latter. But like so much with Megatron it was impossible to say for certain.

Right now all he seemed to be doing was smirking at the sight of Rodimus’ glare.

“I’d like to see you do better.”

“Sadly we don’t have time,” Megatron replied, “Perceptor informs me the quantum engines are nearly at maximum charge. Everybody inside.”

There were a few groans of protest before the crew started shuffling towards the ship.

“Wait,” Rodimus said, “I need to move Snow Rodimus inside.”

His words halted several mecha in their tracks. There were a few turned helms and a snigger that sounded like Whirl.

“Rodimus you can’t be serious,” Magnus said, “It’s snow. It will melt.”

Rodimus flapped his arm insistently,

“I’m sure Brainstorm can think of a way to preserve it.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Megatron snapped, “Even if he did come up with a way to preserve it, why should we waste resources for no other purpose than flattering your ego?”

Rodimus wrapped his arms carefully around Snow Rodimus,

“But Ten made him special,” he whined, “I can’t leave him here.”

“The fact you’re calling it a ‘him’,” Megatron snorted, “I suppose you want to cart your Snow Magnus aboard too?”

“Well yeah,” Rodimus said, “They belong together.”

The words caused Minimus’ spark to unexpectedly lurch. He was still feeling the effect as he raised one hand of the Magnus Armor to Rodimus’ shoulder.

"Rodimus, don’t you think Snow Rodimus and Snow Magnus would prefer to stay in the snow? This is technically their home after all.”

Rodimus pouted,

“I guess so,” he conceded before giving Magnus a sideways stage whisper, “You know that they are inanimate snow statues right?”

Magnus sighed,

“Yes.”

“That they don’t really have any sentience?”

“Of course,” Magnus grumbled, “I was attempting to make you feel better.”

“I know,” Rodimus grinned as he produced his communicator, “I’ll just take a few snaps. Then we can hit up Swerve for more of that tasty engex.”

“That’s probably the best idea you’ve had in a long time,” Megatron quipped.

Rodimus paused from posing with the snowmechs to retort,

“Wow a compliment from the esteemed Megatron. This is a special occasion.”

“You have no idea,” Megatron murmured, optics briefly but deliberately catching Magnus’.


End file.
